


See No Evil (You Just Missed Gaunter)

by misto713



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Adventure, Attempt at Humor, Contracts going wrong, Every Day I’m Witchering, Humor, M/M, Romance, in the best way possible, poor Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misto713/pseuds/misto713
Summary: How to screw up your famous witcher neutrality with a single kiss. Vesimir never taught him what to do when faced with these sorts of consequences of a broken curse. Geralt/Sirvat (The Toad Prince).
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Frog!Prince, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Male Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Sirvat | The Toad Prince
Comments: 16
Kudos: 18





	See No Evil (You Just Missed Gaunter)

**Author's Note:**

> Now checked and corrected by Isis Colorado! Thanks for the beta! :)

Geralt was  _ bored _ .

That had never happened to him before, now that he thought about it, not as far as he could remember.

There had always been something - a contract, a task, or even his own growling stomach to consider when he lacked funds for even the most basic amenities. Like food. 

But now? 

Ciri had stayed in Nilfgaard, training to become an empress under her ‘papa’ Emhyr’s careful tutelage. Yen and Triss both kept far away from him, and to be honest, all parties were glad for it. Dandelion still had Priscilla to care for and Zoltan was doing… whatever he was doing to become a more alluring marriage prospect in Mahakam.

Corvo Bianco prospered with or without his input - probably prospered more  _ without _ his input - so he wasn’t even hurting for coin.

And so Geralt was...  _ fine _ . With no greater purpose, no open contracts, no goal. No one to save, no intrigue to try and solve or avoid. Just… nothing.

Well, time to start going through the villages’ notice boards. There was always enough to do in Velen.

He finished his drink and walked out from the Seven Cats Inn, just in time to see some bandit nail a new notice to the board.

\--

_ Contract: Monster in the Sewers _

_ Let it be known that Olgierd von Everec shall pay a generous reward in gold, jewels and movable goods (subject to negotiation) to any man who descends into the Oxenfurt sewers and kills the beast which has infested them and taken to murdering the innocent, with an especial predilection for young maids. The task is best suited for a battle-hardened individual, a soldier or possibly a witcher, who will not run at the sight of drowners, for the sewers are chock full of such nuisances. _

_ For more information, inquire at the Garin Estate (to the northeast of Novigrad). _

_ Ask for Olgierd von Everec. _

\--

“Hmmm, could be interesting,” Geralt mused as he took the notice from the notice board. “Oxenfurt? Haven’t really been there since I killed Whoreson Junior. Wonder if anything’s changed.”

Geralt turned to saddle up Roach with the aim of riding to the Garin Estate to negotiate his pay, but then hesitated. The contract pointed towards Oxenfurt, but the Garin estate was out of the way.  _ Really  _ out of the way. He’d waste a day travelling back. Why not go directly into the sewers from here, just take care of the monster first?

He didn’t really need the reward for the contract. So there was no point going to negotiate and then back to Oxenfurt, just to get more coin. He could just go after the beast and not tell this Olgierd that he’d already killed the monster, and negotiate  _ after _ he fulfilled the contract. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Mind made up, he jumped into the saddle and turned Roach towards Oxenfurt.

* * *

“- and I will go into the sewers, see if I can break the curse on the poor frog prince.”

Geralt paused to listen and gather more information about the contract before he entered the sewers. You never knew what you’d find out just by listening to gossip. And it never hurt to be prepared.

A woman in a tattered blue dress snorted. “You? Hah! Doesn’t it need to be a fair maiden? I don’t think you qualify for either of the conditions, sweetheart.”

“Oh, go screw yourself, Ronnie!“ The first woman who had spoken tossed her hair. “Bet the rules don’t even say anything like that, and it’s just the prince who said so, to get a pretty lass to bed before he got cursed. But he won’t go complainin’ so long as he gets  _ saved _ , right?”

“Saved. Suuure,” the second woman drawled. “I doubt any man would consider marriage to you salvation.”

“Oh, just shut up! So what? Long as the curse is broken and I get to marry him, he can complain all he likes. Besides,” she said, grinning, “even if he don’t marry me, I still get a hefty reward, right?”

Geralt narrowed his eyes as he considered it. The reward for removing the monster from the sewers sounded nice, no doubt about it, but if he managed to break the curse on a king’s son…

Well, if the opportunity presented itself, he might try and break the curse instead of just killing the monster. He’d see…

* * *

Greeted by the stench of rotten corpses, Geralt realized that the gossiping women above were not the first ones to try to break the curse. “Damn.” This is what happened when amateurs tried to do a witcher’s job.

The sewers were full of corpses. Many corpses, and from his first cursory look they all appeared to be women. He leaned closer to one of the more recent corpses to check for clues.

“Poisoned,” a sniff told him. “So the prince not only got turned into a frog, but into a venomous frog. Man, his curse sucks.” He considered the woman’s face. “Face twisted, lips bitten through. She did not die quickly. Slow-acting venom?” Her fingernails told him even more. “No discolouration. The poison wasn’t too strong, then. Just enough to kill. Slowly and painfully.” 

He looked around at the other corpses. Most of them were half-dissolved in the green slime, but then, they had already been here for some time. There were also a couple that looked like they got crushed. Not a small monster, then.

The sewers, and the stench, led him further in, into a wider area. Good for a monster’s lair. Geralt paused before he fully stepped in, and considered his plan.

The poison worked slowly. If he preemptively took some Golden Oriole, he might be able to plant a big sloppy one on the thing and see if that would solve the problem. But… if he did that, and it didn’t work, he’d weaken himself with the venom, and then he would have to fight, half-poisoned, against a monster strong enough to crush a grown woman’s bones. And if he didn’t do it, and it turned out that it actually  _ was _ just a man under a magical curse, he’d kill an innocent who could have been saved.

Decisions, decisions…

The walls shook. The ground trembled. Geralt didn’t need sensitive ears to hear the thunderous crashes as something enormous made its way through the tunnels.

His time was up. Now he had to face the monster.

The horrifying monstrosity crashed into the middle of the slime-covered square filled with corpses and froze right opposite Geralt.

The witcher and monster stared at each other for a long, frozen moment. Geralt could have sworn he saw something like… surprise? Perhaps even a bit of fear, in that thing’s reptilian eyes.

A being like this had never been described in any bestiary Geralt had read. That could only mean that this was truly a curse. Worse than the one on Urcheon of Erlenwald, perhaps, but he was now almost certain there was a man under all that magic.

A distant crash and screech of metal broke the fragile silence. The monster roared, spitting venom all around itself in giant spouts. And then it  _ jumped _ .

Geralt cursed under his breath and pulled out a vial of Golden Oriole.

Well, at least he wasn’t bored.

* * *

That. Damned. TOAD!

Geral cursed and dove out of the way again. If it wasn’t the tongue, it was the venom it spat, the pus ’bombs’, or the damned jumping that could break even a witcher like him into pieces.

He was tiring, and fast. Yet he wasn’t anywhere close to actually planting a kiss on that thing. Not if he wanted to survive it. It always made sure to face him, almost taunting him, but between the venom, the acid and pus, the long tongue and the jumps that broke through even his Quen… If he didn’t think of something, fast, he’d either have to run and hope the thing didn't follow, or he’d have to seriously fight to kill.

The second he’d taken to contemplate strategy cost him. The tongue hit him square in the chest, threw him several feet back, and he ended up almost on top of a Redanian soldier’s corpse. The toad tensed in a way Geralt now recognized as preparation for a jump.

Out of desperation, he grabbed the closest thing he could - the soldier’s shield.

When the toad landed, Geralt jumped up, holding the shield in front of himself to block that damned tongue.

The toad belched, breathed in to spit another gout of phlegm - Geralt threw the shield aside, jumped in close-

And slammed his lips against the toad.

The thing paused. Geralt held on for dear life and continued ’kissing’ it.

Suddenly, all of its pustules broke at once, covering them both in venomous ’rain’. But Geralt felt a shift under his mouth. The toad’s mouth was getting smaller and smaller. More  _ human _ -like.

Light poured in through the grate above their heads as if the gods themselves, if they ever existed, blessed this moment. Geralt felt the magical build-up burst, breaking the curse and releasing the man trapped inside. His arms went around the bare form of the cursed human, his lips still firmly attached to the transforming monster-man, to let the magic run its course.

The stranger’s arms suddenly went around his waist and the man kissed him back.

Geralt relaxed. 

It was over.

He pulled back with a smile, then grinned down at the stunned, wide eyes of the man in his arms.

Suddenly it hit him. The combined effects of the poisonous ’rain’ and the previous hits of venom overwhelmed even Superior Golden Oriole. The world went blurred around the edges.

Geralt cursed softly and scratched at his armour to find the last dose of his potion even as he felt himself grow weak.

His world grew dark, and then he knew no more.

* * *

He woke up on a boat. 

Naked, disarmed, feeling like death warmed over.

Not the best way to wake up, but if he was honest, it also wasn’t the worst. At least he wasn’t shackled.

Still, why was he imprisoned? And on a boat? Didn’t he… save the cursed man? Were these his enemies, or-

“What… what’s going on?”

Then he had a horrible, horrible thought.

The venomous rain. It had covered  _ both  _ of them. And if the man no longer had the natural resistance of a monster, then… Or did  _ Geralt _ accidentally poison him with that kiss? He had still been under the influence of Golden Oriole at that time. Witcher potions weren’t meant for humans.

“Ah, he’s finally come to. And he can speak human, turns out.”

The voice was surprisingly friendly for such a dreary place as a ship’s holding cells.

Geralt turned, then understood. Another prisoner. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back against the iron bars separating their cells.

“Started thinking I’d not converse in Common the whole way. ’Cept maybe with me reflection in the piss bucket.”

Geralt looked around. “Where... Where am I?”

His fellow prisoner answered. “On the ’Albatross’. Or the -” and then he said a long, foreign word that Geralt had no chance of understanding. “As their strange tongue has it. En route to Ofier.”

Geralt scowled. “Don’t remember signing on as a sailor.” When in doubt, sass. It never helped him, but it made him feel better, so that was something.

The other prisoner chuckled sardonically. “Haha, oh, you didn’t, mate. They dragged you aboard. Seems they are afraid you might have killed their prince.”

Despairingly, Geralt grabbed at the straw the words provided. “’Might have’? So they don’t know?”

“Oh, they know. They know it was you since they found you lying next to him. Both of you covered in venom, barely breathing.”

“So the prince isn’t actually dead? Not yet?”

“’ _ Yet’ _ being the operative word here.” The prisoner shook his head. “Their head mage, Aamad, was still fighting to save his prince’s life - for you see, the man whose curse you broke is a prince, and all the people on this boat swore on their honor and the honor of their families they would find him and bring him home to the king, safe and sound. Which, considering they are now fighting to keep him alive from an unknown poison and the remnants of the curse, doesn’t seem likely to happen.”

“Great,” Geralt grumbled as he sat down on a nearby barrel. “Just great.”

They chatted for a while. Turned out his fellow prisoner’s name was Phelippe Calagrande, a petty thief and occasional tour guide, or so he claimed. Arrested ’just in case’, as he was the one to guide them to their cursed prince’s lair - too late to save him from Geralt, in their captors’ minds.

They sat there talking until they were interrupted by harsh, guttural words of their captors.

The guards were back, saying something Geralt didn’t understand.

“What’s that mean?”

Phelippe muttered to him quietly, “Told us to shut up. Surprisingly politely.”

Geralt stood up and addressed the guards. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Can I talk to your captain?”

What followed was yet another string of gibberish to Geralt’s ears. Phelippe helpfully translated, “It is not our decision to make. Most Honorable Mage Aamad will see you when he decides it is time.”

“...Huh.”

The guards left them there after placing a bowl of cold gruel on the floor of Geralt’s cell. That was… surprisingly polite for jailors. They were the most polite jailors Geralt had ever faced, in fact.

But then, the prince wasn’t dead yet.

Yet.

Geralt sat back down and tried not to think about the future.

* * *

The next time the guards came to their cells, they carried a set of Ofieri clothes of exceptional quality - no doubt a tunic fit for a noble - and a bucket full of water and soap.

When they unlocked Geralt’s cell, he breathed a sigh of deep, all-encompassing relief. “The prince survived.”

“What? How’d you figure?” Phelippe asked, astonished as another guard opened his cell and handed him a set of Redania-style clothes, no doubt his own.

“They wouldn’t have handed us fancy clothes if they wanted to kill us.”

Phelippe cautiously reached out and took the clothes from the guard. When the soldiers turned and spoke to Geralt, Phelippe visibly brightened as he translated. “We provided you with cleaning water and good dress. Once you are done here, come meet us at the stairs. Most Honorable Mage Aamad and Crown Prince Sirvat will meet you.”

Geralt accepted the provided items and started washing off the grime, sweat, mud, slime and remnants of Redanian soldiers that still clung to his body like bad odor. And washing off the bad odor, too.

“What you grinnin’ about, mate?” Phelippe asked while pulling on his breeches.

Geralt chuckled. “Well, not only did I just find out I won’t be hanged and quartered. It’s also time for my favorite part of the job.”

The man returned his smile and asked politely, “What part of the job is that?”

Geralt finished his wash, put on the fancy tunic that, he was happy to note, provided plenty of movement, and replied: “I’m getting paid!”

* * *

The prince looked much better than the last time Geralt saw him. But then, considering the last time he saw him was when the prince had been cursed into a giant toad and tried to eat him, that was not saying much. He was now a black-haired man, and pretty good-looking, Geralt had to admit.

As soon as Geralt arrived at the top deck, the prince jumped from his pillow-covered chair, ignoring the mage’s protests that he was moving too quickly, and went to greet Geralt with open arms, like an old friend.

“And here comes my rescuer!” The prince grabbed Geralt around the shoulders and kissed both his cheeks. 

Geralt tensed up but fought not to react otherwise. He had seen Ofieri people greet each other like this before - if anything, rejecting this gesture would be an insult.

“I would know the name of the man who saved me. What are you called, White One?”

The witcher straightened up, politely taking a step back from the prince’s arms. “Geralt of Rivia, Your Majesty.”

The prince laughed, revealing startlingly white teeth. “Oh, there is no need for such formality, Geralt of Rivia! As we are soon to be married, you may call me Sirvat!”

The Head Mage shook his head, “My Prince...”

“What?!” Geralt exclaimed and took another step back, looking wildly around. “What do you mean, ’married’?” Had he heard this right? But Phelippe only shrugged his shoulders, while the Head Mage pinched the bridge of his nose.

Prince Sirvat continued, still smiling at Geralt indulgently. “We are to be married at once, of course! My rescuer must be rewarded, and what better way can I reward him than making him the Prince-Consort of Ofier?”

Geralt just stared. This… ok, this had never happened to him before.

If he had trouble getting paid, it was usually because the other party didn’t want to pay. Not- Not because they offered to  _ marry  _ him!

_ Getting married was NOT part of his job!! _

“But… We can’t get married!”

Prince Sirvat only lifted an eyebrow at him. “Why not?”

Geralt tried to find some arguments, some excuse,  _ anything  _ to get out of this. “Well… In the first place, I’m not really a human.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Prince Sirvat shrugged his shoulders, still with that damned pleasant toothy smile.

“I kill. I kill monsters and people, all the time!”

“So do I when I hunt. I don’t care.”

Geralt threw his hands out. “I have a terrible past. They call me the Butcher of Blaviken.”

“I forgive you.”

Now he was getting desperate. “I’m sterile. I can never have children.”

“We can adopt some.” That damned smile got brighter.

“Dammit! I’m a man!”

Prince Sirvat looked him up and down with a definite spark of appreciation. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

And that was it.

Geralt stood there, stumped. 

He was all out of excuses. He was pretty sure just saying ’No’ outright would get him beheaded, ’savior’ or not.

What to do, what to do?

“I… need a moment,” he finally pushed out, when the silence became awkward.

He walked over to the railing, leaning against it heavily.

The conversation slowly restarted around them, guttural voices floating past him but he barely registered them in his shock.

He looked out over the water, seeing Novigrad in the distance. 

An hour, maybe two of steady swimming. 

Hmm…

Not pleasant but he could survive it. He’d have to abandon his gear and swords, and pray the drowners didn’t catch his scent, but with determination and a bit of luck, he’d make it.

He cast a quick glance at the ’royal party’. They were all in deep discussion in their native language, Phelippe listening nearby, and all the soldiers were watching them.

Now or never!

Geralt jumped overboard and started swimming towards Novigrad.

He’d have to be quick and quiet about this. First, go to Dandelion’s inn, get his spare set of armour and swords. Then he’d probably aim for Velen, try to lose them in the bog or something, and-

“Aaaaaargh!!”

A giant gout of water lifted him into the air and carried him back onto the ship. He was plopped unceremoniously onto the deck, right at the feet of the scowling Head Mage, Aamad.

Geralt coughed out some water and glared up at the annoying wizard.

The mage sighed and tapped his staff against the deck. “Let me explain. The curse was of ancient make, powerful and terrible. To break it, it needs two parts - one, a kiss from a willing soul and two, marriage to complete the transformation. Happy I am not, but for our Prince, this is a sacrifice we all must make.” He straightened up and waved his staff imperiously. “Do not say no to Most Honorable Prince Sirvat, for doing so would recast the curse with no way for me to break it. Treason to the Crown of Ofier it would be, and would have to be punished accordingly.”

Prince Sirvat waved his hand, “Come now, Aamad, you make it sound like something horrible, my friend. This is meant to be a happy occasion!” But at least he stopped smiling so widely. He turned to Geralt, and the witcher was surprised - his eyes were  _ pleading _ . “Will you marry me, Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt looked around at the armed and now angry soldiers, imperious Head Mage and the sorrowful dark brown eyes of the Prince and sighed. “I really  _ can’t  _ say no, now can I?”

The Prince, Head Mage and Phelippe sighed in relief. 

Geralt plonked himself down on the deck and leaned his back against the railing. His fellow prisoner, now ’official translator’, it seemed, came to rest beside him, disregarding the wet puddle under Geralt’s ruined noble tunic.

He bumped his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Hey, chin up, mate. It’s not so bad. All you have to do is kiss the pretty prince once in a while, and you’ll get to rule a country! There are worse fates, you know.”

“Don’t I know it,” Geralt scoffed. Then he sighed and put his head in his hands. “Yen’s right. I’m an idiot. Why?! Why do I always take on royal contracts? Nothing good has ever come of it.” He paused. “Except for Ciri.”

The ship continued its journey to far-away shores, heedless of protests of any passengers on board.

Geralt watched as Novigrad became more and more distant, before it finally disappeared over the horizon.

“I hate politics.”

* * *

Outtake

**_Elsewhere, not really in our plane of existence_ **

Gaunter O’Dimm stared at the utter chaos left in the witcher’s wake, amused.

Then he laughed. ’I’m not even mad!’ Then he went to find some other poor bugger to help him fulfil the wishes of that horrible, horrible Olgierd von Everec.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The 'arguments' scene is from movie 'Some like it Hot', called 'Nobody's perfect'. To be honest, I've never seen the movie only that one scene but that scene is EPIC! xD And it fit Geralt so perfectly that I just *had to* use it.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Poor, poor Geralt and his bad track record with Royal contracts. Let me know in the comments! :)


End file.
